The despairing truth about being lonely is that it makes you recount the worst portions of your life. Away from the discordant noises of life on a whole, one gets sucked into recalling and reliving those moments...I am feeling very lonely now, so you can very well guess what I am reliving...
She was an angel...an innocent and pure soul untouched by the darkness and malaise of life, the very epitome of goodness, the monument of love itself. I did not help fall in love with her but surprisingly (and wrongly) she could not help but fall in love with me. What she saw in me, I will never know.....What she gave me I can never express. She changed life...happiness no more felt an alien being, love was no longer some abstract shit. The days were resplendent with the existence of her feelings...the nights with the soothness of her being. An angel who nurtured my soul and laid waste her dreams to wish me bliss.....yes, she had dreams in her eyes, dreams which she cared for, dreams which she lived for...Dreams which I shattered.
Did I tell you she was an angel...I suppose I did.
What I didn't tell you is that I was the Devil Incarnate himself.
She gave up her dreams to bring life to mine...I used my life to mutilate her dreams. The warmness of her eyes I mistook for the gleam of ambition...the blush of her cheeks I assumed were the red of fakeness...the love I thought to be the mirage of her cold heart.
And so I hurt her...I humiliated her being and broke her confidence...insulted her love, termed her feelings a charade. I battered her trust in goodness and sucked out the emotions from her soul. I killed her dreams and left her crippled.
I was wrong...I was mistaken...I was a fool...I was so much more...Every shred of the fabric of happiness that we could have had was in tatters...there was nothing left to pick up...the pieces were not broken...they were rendered to dust...they slipped out of my hands...it was too late to mend "US"...there remained no such thing.....but a guilty soul needs some repentance...I needed penance...which could only be had by weaving back those dreams for her...every step that she would take towards her dreams would be one moment of penance for me...and there was only one way.
I went back to her life...not to ask for forgiveness for it was beyond me to ask, not to love her back for I had left nothing in her, not to hold her hand and lead her to her dreams for she would shun my very breath...but I went back to hurt her more, to mock her dreams further, to kill her strength better.
I placed as many obstacles in her path as I could, not because I wanted her to stumble and fall into the abyss of failure but because I knew that she would be spurred on further to cross those obstacles...I hated her because my hate made her stronger...I belittled her because it gave her confidence...I doubted her efforts as it made her endeavor more...I demeaned her achievements because it galvanized her to achieve more...I blemished her aspirations because it made her aspire for more, dream a new dream, live a new life...as she does now...SHE LIVES BECAUSE SHE HATES ME.
This is how I now live my life or whatever is left of it...because for every obstacle that I place in her path, for every time that insult her on her face, for every time that I disparage her, for every time that I denigrate her achievements, for every time that I scorn at her efforts and for every time that I derogate her being...I kill a part of me.....part by part, day by day, piece by piece...I mutilate my being...Shred by shred, fragment by fragment, scrap by scrap I murder my soul.
And yet in this destruction of self, I find bliss...in this mutilation I find solace...in this killing I find atonement...in this death I find life for I DIE BECAUSE I LOVE HER.